


Empty Room

by aohatsu



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:39:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25226935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aohatsu/pseuds/aohatsu
Summary: It’s been four months since the kid moved into the compound full-time.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 18
Kudos: 68
Collections: Multifandom Drabble 2020





	1. Temporary

**Author's Note:**

  * For [intoxicatelou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/intoxicatelou/gifts).



It’s been four months since the kid moved into the compound full-time.

Tony had given Peter a credit card to decorate his room (and gifted him with a _Millennium Falcon_ replica as a room-warming gift) and order whatever else he needed to make the compound feel like more of a home and less like the training facility he’d stayed at every other weekend while he’d been in high school.

He has no problem spreading his books out along the coffee table in the living room or kitchen. Hell, Tony’s found Peter slumped on the couch more times than he can count, laptop precariously settled on his lap as he does his homework.

Tony had thought that meant that Peter was comfortable; that he’d really begun to see the compound as his home. Tony had thought, though he supposes he had never actually thought about it, that Peter would have settled in, would have really made his room—his. Filled it up and decorated it. Claimed it.

Standing in Peter’s bedroom doorway now, he realizes that Peter has never so much as put up a poster. Other than the Millennium Falcon replica sitting on the desk, a jacket on the chair and pair of shoes kicked to the corner, the room doesn’t look lived in at all.

Does he think his living at the compound is temporary? Would he rather be living in the dorms at the university, or back in his apartment with his aunt? Had Tony pressured him into moving in, becoming an official Avenger, when he hadn’t been sure he wanted to?

Peter hadn’t seemed unhappy.

Tony rubs at his cheek.

Peter had practically been over the moon when Tony had asked him, so why does it look like the kid never wanted to move in at all?


	2. Lab Time

Peter slides into the lab, pulling off his mask to reveal messy, sweaty curls, sticking to his skin. He touches Tony’s shoulder, leaning down to press a kiss to Tony’s mouth.

Tony kisses him back, never able to quite stop himself from giving in to Peter even though there are more than enough reasons to. Peter is smiling when he pulls back, eyes bright. He’s half-sitting on the table where Tony had been working a moment earlier.

“Hey,” Peter says, still smiling. “It’s raining pretty hard out there.”

“I can tell. Did you use the heater?” Tony’s hands find their way to Peter’s thighs, rubbing his thumbs into the deep blue material of his suit. The suit is damp, but not soaked through.

“Nah, thought you’d want to warm me up yourself when I got home.”

“Smart man,” Tony smirks, sliding his hands up further—before he stops. _Home_ , Peter had said.

“Hey,” Tony says, quietly, frowning. He lets go of Peter and turns around, grabbing at his coffee mug to have something in his hands. The coffee’s gone cold.

Peter, after a pause, asks, “Mr. Stark?”

“Why haven’t you decorated your room?” Tony asks, and then: “Do you need help? I could hire a decorator.” That’s what he’d done, although his room is covered in bits of machinery, random tools and lately, Peter’s clothes strewn about that he forgets to pick up whenever he stays in Tony’s room instead of going back to his own.

“Oh,” Peter says, quietly. “I—that’s okay. I don’t need one.”

“Alright.” Tony takes a gulp of the cold coffee. “Why not?”

Peter shrugs and slides off the table. “I’m tired,” he mumbles. “I guess I’ll just head to bed. Night, Tony.”

Tony clenches the coffee mug. _Shit._

“Yeah, sure. Of course. Goodnight, kid.”


	3. Midnight Thinking

Tony slides into bed after spending far too long in the lab. He hasn’t seen Peter in a few days now, between work at Stark Industries and Peter’s work at college. He hasn’t exactly gone looking for the kid though, and Peter...

The bed is made up, and the mess Tony remembers being on the floor has been picked up—the cleaning service must have come through. Still, the room feels oddly cold, and he can’t get comfortable in his bed. He ends up shoving the blankets and sheets aside, lying spread eagle and staring at the ceiling.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.,” Tony prompts, though he shouldn’t, “is Peter still awake?”

“Yes, Boss.”

“Where is he?”

“Peter is in his room.”

“What’s he doing?”

“Peter is reading World History and Civilizations, volume—”

Tony cuts her off. “Has he decorated at all?”

“Peter has placed a photograph on his desk.”

Tony frowns, and then says, “F.R.I.D.A.Y., lights.”

The lights come on smoothly, and Tony glances over to the end table on the other side of the bed—the side Peter usually ends up on when he stays after they’ve had sex. There’d been a picture there of Peter, his aunt and uncle. Peter had left it, a textbook, a toothbrush and one of his backpacks that had split at the seam along with a pile of clothes that never seemed to manage to make it into the hamper.

The picture is gone.

Actually—so is Peter’s laptop, which isn’t a surprise, but the clothes and Peter’s books are all gone too. Peter’s never bothered picking up like this before.

Tony doesn’t like it.

It’s been a while since he’s come to his room without seeing signs of Peter in it.

Without seeing Peter.

_Fuck._


	4. Knocking

Tony knocks on Peter’s door.

It takes a long moment, but Peter eventually opens the door, yawning. He looks at Tony with a confused frown, and Tony swallows at the sight of him. He’s in a baggy, wrinkled t-shirt that should probably have gone in the laundry a few days ago and a pair of sweatpants that aren’t much better. His hair is a wild mess and there’s a fading red mark on his cheek from where he must have been leaning on his hand before getting up to open the door.

He’s stunning.

Tony wants to touch him with an almost unstoppable desperation.

“Mr. Stark?”

“You took all your stuff out of my room.”

Peter’s frown gets heavier, his shoulders slumping enough that Tony has to acknowledge that Peter had been holding them tensely before.

“You sort of told me to,” Peter mumbles, and then runs a hand through his hair.

Tony rubs a hand over his face. “Look, that isn’t what I meant.”

“I don’t understand.” Peter shuffles his feet and crosses his arms over his chest. “What did you mean?”

“Your room was… empty. Like a hotel or— I thought maybe you weren’t planning on staying.”

Peter looks at him incredulously, eyes wide with obvious disbelief and confusion.

“Mr. Stark—Tony. When you asked me to move into the compound, I thought you meant with you. But you gave me my own room. And that’s fine, I guess, but I wanted—I wanted—" Peter cuts himself off with a frustrated groan and looks away.

Tony lets out a long, slow breath.

“Okay,” he says, “grab your stuff.”

“What?”

Tony resists the urge to kiss the look of surprise off his face. Instead, he shrugs, smiling. “Come on, grab your stuff.”

Peter’s smile could light up a room.


End file.
